


In the Back

by ItsAFuckingSnickersBar



Series: Beat me up, beat me down (mess me up beyond all recognition) [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Cocky Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slurs, Smut, Top Ian Gallagher, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsAFuckingSnickersBar/pseuds/ItsAFuckingSnickersBar
Summary: "You got any Slim-Jim's in this shit-hole?"
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Beat me up, beat me down (mess me up beyond all recognition) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875880
Comments: 12
Kudos: 107





	1. Slim-Jim's

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously just part one because it's short as hell, I'll be adding part two soon, hopefully. 
> 
> This just struck me and I wanted to write it. (Writing this might also be slightly out of spite from seeing a bottom Ian and top Mickey story pop up when I was searching for things to read because I don't like when people switch their positions, but that's also just on me. You do you...even though we know Mick is a hardcore and very vocal bottom when it comes to Ian - thank you.)
> 
> I can be petty every once in a while, sorry not sorry.

After that first time, Mickey knew he was fucked. Metaphorically and literally, it seemed. How in the hell did a kid like that know how to use that monster between his legs so well? Why had he enjoyed it so much? He ain’t no fag, he wasn’t supposed to enjoy getting fucked in the ass by some redheaded, freckled, alien-looking motherfucker. 

Here he was though, standing outside of the Kash-N-Grab and waiting for his chance to step inside and say the line he’d been reciting practically all fucking day. He can feel his heart rate picking up as he glances in through the glass door, taking a final puff off of his cigarette before he tosses it down and stomps it out with his shoe, blowing the smoke out of his lungs and finally stepping inside. He curses internally as he sees someone else in there but reminds himself of something: he’s a Milkovich. He ain’t scared of shit, he gets and takes what he wants. _Sure_ , that saying probably wasn’t meant for getting fucked but oh well. He adjusts his scarf, his arms a little stiff as he holds them at his sides awkwardly. Okay, maybe he was a little paranoid but he would never admit that to himself or anyone else for that matter.

“You got any Slim-Jim’s in this shit-hole?” 

He watches as Gallagher slowly walks from behind the counter, taking his damn time, as the only other person in the store leaves - _they didn’t know shit about what was going to go down in here in just a few minutes_ \- and turns the lock on the front door with a click. 

“Yeah, in the back.” He answers, a smirk playing at his lips as he leads the way and Mickey finds himself following silently, his own smirk appearing on his lips as well as he walks behind him, taking his scarf off as he does so, and steps into the back with him. 

_Fuck_ , what was he getting himself into?


	2. Booty Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He ain't a fag. He's not. He just knows what he likes. The fact that it happens to be a cock in his ass, rearranging his guts, was beside the point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't checked over this yet to find the mistakes. Feel free to tell me if there's any in the comments.
> 
> Comments are appreciated, gives me a bit of motivation to keep trying to write. I like knowing if you guys like it.

By the time they make it into the back part of the store, Mickey's entire body felt like it was thrumming as though he'd just done a few lines before stepping inside. Christ, what was this kid doing to him? He's so absorbed into his own head that he barely notices that Ian's already began unbuckling his jeans, looking to Mickey expectantly as he waits. There was another faint smirk on the redhead's lips, his pink tongue darting out to wet them before he clears his throat.

It's enough to snap Mickey out of it, not facing the other as he didn't want to have to punch him in his pretty mouth - _pretty mouth? Get ahold of yourself, Milkovich!_ \- he shakes his head before tossing his scarf onto the ground and moving to roughly yank his own pants down as well. No way was he taking the chance of getting completely naked again like the first time. He'd already shown the kid too much of himself then. Too close, too intimate, too vulnerable. He'd even let him see the fear in his eyes when Terry barged in and looked at them, spitting something about them looking like _fags_ and telling them to get dressed.

He ain't a fag. He's not. He just knows what he likes. The fact that it happens to be a cock in his ass, rearranging his guts, was beside the point.

He breathes out as he steps closer, moving to bend over a stack of crates, still pointedly ignoring looking at Gallagher's face. It made all of this too real, and he wasn't anywhere near ready to accept all the shit he had bubbling beneath the surface of his psyche. His body was tense, he knew. It couldn't be helped. He'd been on edge for practically his entire life, it came with being a Milkovich. You never knew where Terry could have his eyes on you.

"Hey," He suddenly hears Ian speak from behind him, a way too tender touch against his hipbone that makes him almost melt into it no matter how much he wants to deny it. "You okay?"

No. He wasn't. He was the farthest thing from okay.

"Don't pussy out on me, Gallagher. I didn't come here to talk about my feelings." He feels Ian hesitate behind him this time and it makes him want to kick and scream, like a bitch throwing a tantrum. He doesn't though. "If you're not gonna do what you're good for, then I'm fuckin' leaving."

His face is twisted angrily as he goes to stand up, reaching down for his jeans but before he can fully stand, there's a hand against the center of his back and he's pushed back down so quickly that he nearly loses his footing. He has half a mind to reach back and knock the ginger's teeth out but his brain short circuits once he feels the slicked tip of Ian's cock nudging at his hole. Fuck, when did he even lube himself up, had he been that distracted by his own thoughts?

"Don't worry, I'll do what I'm good for." He hears Ian say, a hint of anger and bitterness in his tone. This kid just wore his heart on his sleeve. He can't find it in himself to care for long though because Ian's pushing that big fucking cock inside of him and it burns, god, it burns but it's so fucking good. He has to bring his hand up to bite on his tattooed knuckles to make sure he doesn't make any pansy sounds, squeezing around his dick like a vice. "That's how you want it, Mickey?"

Again, Mickey doesn't trust himself to open his mouth, so he finds himself nodding instead even though he's pretty sure that was meant to be a rhetorical question. He can feel it when Ian finally gets all the way inside because it feels like there's physically no more room for anything else to move. He's so fucking full that it feels hard to breathe but it's just how he wants it. He wants Ian to fuck him, make him forget about his shitty life for a little while - about their shitty lives.

Soon enough, Ian grips his hips tightly, pulling out tortuously slow before pushing in all the same and Mickey can't stop himself in time as he pushes back onto him, wanting him to hurry the fuck up and fuck him. He looks like a needy bitch but maybe that's what he is right now. 

Ian lets out a breathless chuckle behind him when he notices how Mickey chases after his cock, the action only making him swell with confidence before he ultimately gives Mickey what he wants. He starts fucking into him faster and deeper, knowing without a doubt that he's already hitting that spot because he can see all of the rippling muscles in Mickey's back from where he'd pushed his shirt up. Not to mention, he can hear the barely-there sounds he was making, trying to hide his pleasure from him but he knew.

Mickey can feel the sounds climbing up his throat. Those awful, disgusting whimpers and whines at every thrust, every push and pull of Ian's hips. God, he was in so fucking deep, brushing past and nudging at that little pleasure button inside of him every single time, and his cock was aching. It doesn't help that he can clearly hear every breathy groan and gasp coming from behind him either, those sounds that make his stomach churn and cock leak.

He was already close.

He should be ashamed, he should be mortified. It was bad enough getting fucked in the ass by a guy, two years younger than him at that, but to cum without a single touch on his dick? Pathetic.

His thoughts go blank once more as he feels Ian draping himself over his back, his hot breath tickling at Mickey's nape and cock somehow pressing even deeper inside of him, at least it seemed that way. He makes the mistake of moving his hand away from his mouth to grip onto the top crate for some sort of leverage so he wouldn't topple over from the force Ian was using, and one of those god awful whimpers escapes past his lips. He expects Ian to laugh at him, of course, but he doesn't.

"Fuck, Mickey," He groans, right against Mickey's neck, his hands tightening on his hips. There were gonna be bruises, he was sure of it. "Feel so good, sound so good. W-Wanna hear you."

Those words open the fucking floodgates.

At first, it's a gasp, then it's another pansy whimper, then it turns into a right fucking moan. He can't stop, his mouth dropping open and moans, high and low, of all sorts, make their way out. His face is red, he can feel the heat there, his eyes squeezed shut to offer him some form of dignity. His knuckles are white from how tight he was clinging to the crate now, trying to stop his knees from buckling.

"Fuck, _Gallagher_ -" He manages to choke out just as he cums, his toes curling inside of his shoes and mouth opening wide into a silent cry, his cum dripping onto the floor between his feet.

It seems Ian wasn't far behind because not a second later, he feels an unfamiliar warmth spreading inside of him and it takes him a minute to process that Ian had actually just dropped a fucking load in him. There wasn't time to dote on that though because Ian was pulling out with a hiss, eyes catching the sight of a bit of his cum starting to leak from Mickey's used, pink hole. 

Mickey pants quietly, trying to gather his senses before standing up, tugging his pants back up and grimacing at the sticky feeling inside of his boxers from Ian's cum sliding out slowly. He couldn't deny that he hadn't exactly hated it at the time though.

After that, they dress in silence, not really knowing what to say and soon, they're back at the front door.

Ian unlocks it, his hair still fucked up as he pushes the door open and lets Mickey step out as he fixes his scarf back around his neck. "So, I guess this was kinda like a booty-call, huh?"

Mickey doesn't even turn to look at him as he answers, this was already too fucking gay for him, and he can't make sense of why his heartbeat hadn't calmed down yet even though they'd got done fucking at least ten minutes ago.

"Yeah, whatever. See ya."

Mickey really needed to get his shit together.


End file.
